the bleeding horse, avenged: June 2018

Friday, June 29, 2018

IN THE SHUFFLING MADNESS

it was something, anyway,

a stray thought or a foolish idea,

a blind idea that being touched

would be enough to save you,

that being held would make me human

it was knowledge,

but it wasn’t truth

it was your father’s hands in all of

your dreams,

hitting or grabbing or gently caressing,

and there were never enough windows

when you were awake

there was never enough sunlight,

and the locks on every door

were broken

my words were

like sawdust in my mouth,

were like shit in yours, but i

couldn’t stop talking

couldn’t stop equating the

act of fucking

with the idea of caring

wanted you, yes, but

only if you were someone else

Tuesday, June 26, 2018

THE FALSE KING WAKES UP ON THE MORNING OF HIS DEATH

IN THE COLD SUNLIGHT, SHADOWS

and i'm sorry for

the idea of prophecy

i understand the need

to burn witches

the need to bury the butchered

in the bitter soil on the

outskirts of juarez

mothers and daughters found

barefoot and beaten

found naked and strangled

and the magic run dry from their crosses

and in the end

it doesn't matter whether or not

you believe in war

in the end

no one cares if you're beautiful

the room of mirrors is in

the burning house

every road leads to the

president's grave

and it's true that

some men deserve to die

more than others and

it's true that all poetry is an

act of cowardice

look at pollock

look at the horses starving on

the outskirts of

the town you live in

all you need to understand

is that nothing

ever really defeats hatred

Friday, June 22, 2018

SOME EXCERPTS FROM THE GREATER RANT

NAUSEA, 2 A.M.

kill the pushers

just keep saying it

over and over

just keep doing it

feels pretty good,

right?

[[[[[[[[[[[[

BLACK ON BLACK (AFTER REINHARDT)

you choose the enemy and

then you choose the weapon and

we are children here

which means that all death is a game

we are starving and

we are beaten

we are the other

all ways out

have been blocked

[[[[[[[[[[[[

PYRAMID: EYE

thin crust of ice on the

dead grass in the wrong back yard

phone ringing in the wrong house

in someone else’s town

no one told you this shit would be easy

no one cares about your pain

cars on the freeway and then the

hills just beyond it and

not blindness but

dwindling shades of grey

listen

are you tired of starving yet?

is the truth still an option?

and all we get for answers

are lies

[[[[[[[[[[[[

MOTHERFUCKER

or what about these men who

suck christ’s cock

while raping teenage girls?

what about the sycophants and

parasites who choose to

give them power?

one word of truth and

the revolution begins

[[[[[[[[[[[[

gotta push yr god’s face

deeper into the filth of

his own blind faith

gotta make him finally

see that self-hatred

is the only true

religion

[[[[[[[[[[[[

standing in plain view,

disappearing

this is no great trick

we were never

more than strangers

nothing to keep us

together but this fear

of drowning alone

YOU WILL ALL DIE UNLOVED IN A KINGDOM OF CHILDREN LOCKED IN CAGES

I JUST WANT HER SHOES TO FIT HER

Do I really need to go into the story of the Residents here? For your sake, I hope not. This is an extended cd reissue of the long out-of-print “Title in Limbo” album, a collaboration with like-minded British avant-garde duo Renaldo and The Loaf. It comes from those heady days of the early 80s when the band was still mostly anonymous, still consisted of the original four members, still wore the giant eyeballs and were still making (for them) fairly accessible music.

If the Brothers Grimm dropped lots of bad acid, got hold of some cheap keyboards, guitars and drum machines and decided to write nursery rhymes instead of fairy tales, this period of the Residents would be the result. Creepy as fuck, but in a sing-songy way. Picture a beautiful, sun-dappled lake, a warm breeze, puffy white clouds…….. now picture the bottom of the lake, full of muck and slime and the decomposing bodies of all your friends. Something pretty laid over top of something visceral and deeply disturbing. The Residents.

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1978-83 were, for me, the key years for the Residents. This was probably the last release by them that I really liked (although, to be honest, I really haven’t listened to anything since 2002’s “Demons Dance Alone” – they’ve overstayed their welcome by about 15 years). It’s nice to have it back, and with some bonus tracks to boot.